Mad
by Fullelven
Summary: Kaela and Cullen can't seem to get along for nothing after the events at the Mage Tower.


**Title: Mad**

**Author: Templar's Wet Dream**

**Summary: Kaela and Cullen can't seem to get along for anything after the events at the Mage Tower.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Cullen, nor do I own the lyrics in the italics. They belong to Ne-Yo from the song "Mad". **

**Author's Note: Please enjoy! I wrote this on an absolute sleepless whim. :D**

_She's staring at me, I'm sitting wondering what she's thinking_

Cullen could feel her gaze on him, even if he wasn't going to look back at her. Though he couldn't see her expression, he couldn't help but to wonder just what it was that ran through her mind now. Did she wish she'd stayed back at the Circle instead of following Duncan? Did she wish she hadn't followed her dreams and returned to find it in shambles? Did she wish that he had been made to stay behind? It was hard telling, but he didn't find himself to eager to turn around and question her just yet.

_Ummm Nobody's talking, cause' talking just turns into screaming (Oooo)_

After all, what civilized speech had they had since they were reunited just outside that Harrowing chamber? He'd been tricked, he'd thought it was that damn demon again, and he'd spilled raw feelings that were like salt in his open and seeping wounds. Feelings that he hadn't even planned on speaking to her.

Feelings that after everything he'd gone through at the Tower and losing all his brethren, he wasn't sure if he even wanted anything to do with them. Which had brought them to fighting, because he couldn't trust her, couldn't trust magic, brought her flaws up to the surface to stare him in the face. That fantastic laugh was haunting, her emerald eyes were lies, and though she had not truly done anything directly to him...

...part of him wanted to be as far away from her as possible.

_And now yes I'm yelling over her, she yelling over me,  
all that that means is neither of us are listening,  
and what's even worse, that we don't even remember why we're fighting_

"So that's it then? You're just going to clam up and not even speak to me. What for this time? Did I meditate too hard? Using magic during my monthly make me a blood mage?" Her words were lined with ice, deadly ice, that seemed to splinter and puncture straight into his heart.

"If you crave my attention enough to retort to you every time you stare at the back of my head, then I suggest you try doing something other than yelling at me for not starting a conversation with you first!" He growled back. The others glanced around from one to another and tried to inconspicuously get up and leave the fighting Templar and Mage alone.

This had become an all-too-often occurrence for the lot of them to have to deal with.

She narrowed her eyes, standing so that she could--for once--tower over the much taller Templar, her arms crossing her chest. "I was testing a theory...seeing if that expression was true."

His face faltered for a minute. What was she talking about? "Expression."

"If looks could kill. But apparently...as no one's having to call Wynne over...it doesn't."

Now Cullen was standing, those copper toned eyes burning like hot coals as he stared her down. "You really wish me dead, Kaela. The one and only reason that your selfish ass was alive long enough to become a Grey Warden?"

She reared back to slap him, he caught her tiny wrist in a steel-gloved palm and held it firmly. Anger did not let him know the strength of his grasp, and immediately her anger did not register the pain from the slowly raising bruise from it.

_So both of us are mad for nothing (fighting for)  
nothing, (crying for)  
nothing, (oohh)_

When we won't let it go for nothing, (come back for)  
nothing,  
it should be nothing  
to a love like what we got oh baby  


Then here it was again, fighting, for what? They didn't know. Pride? Probably. But a fight stemmed by pride alone always resulted in someone getting hurt...which shone in the Dalish Mage's eyes as they teared up. That adrenaline had worn away some, letting her feel his crushing grasp and now she tugged at the arm, a tiny fist punching his armored chest. "You're hurting me you idiot!"

He let go, immediately, reaching forward some as if to try to catch it and examine it. But she was already gripping and rubbing it, nursing it how she would without using magic. No...magic would be an entirely other argument entirely and now she'd lost her fighting spirit. "I-I didn't mean.."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Kaela...please."

"Leave me alone."

They ached in only a way that lovers could, and felt the pain of the other in a way that soul mates always did. She kept her back turned to him, not wanting to look at that face of his, into those puppy-dog eyes of his...she wanted to stay mad. It hurt so much less emotionally then.

_I know sometimes it's gonna rain,  
But baby can we make up now  
cause' I can't sleep through the pain (can't sleep through the pain)  
girl I don't want to go to bed, mad at you  
and I don't want you to go to bed, mad at me  
no I don't want to go to bed mad at you  
and I don't want you to go to bed, mad at me (oh noo)_

If there was one constant that they could count on, it was their fights. So long as they fought, they couldn't formally love, and so long as they didn't love, they couldn't be the only reason the other one hurt. Now, if they hurt the other, they could internalize it and partially blame it on their pride for not working it out, for letting it hurt them so badly. Each cut stung a little deeper than the first...and that's what they counted on. Because they both knew it wouldn't let for long.

In a strange way, they still relied on that estranged love between them. So long as they loved each other, they'd stop, they'd make up, and they'd nurse their wounds before they went to bed.

"Please, Kael...I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

"Me...too." She whispered back, her head lowered. "I know, it's not your fault...the way you feel and all. It's going to take time."

He shook his head, though she couldn't see him behind her. "It is my fault. I choose to take it out on you, when it very well wasn't your fault what went down in the tower. I...I wanted you to be there. Maybe you could have stopped it. Maybe I would have been stronger..."

"Maybe we would have distracted each other and gotten ourselves killed. Can't keep getting caught up on all these Maybes. It's killing us. We've got this Blight we've got to worry about."

He conceded, nodding. "Then I guess we should get through the night watch without killing each other."

_Umm  
and it gets me upset girl when you're constantly accusing  
(asking questions like you already know)  
hey we're fighting this war when both of us are losing  
(this ain't the way that love is supposed to go, what happened to working it out?)  
We fall into this place where you ain't backing down, and I ain't backing down,  
so what the hell do we do now?  
_

Peace was always short lived though, before paranoia and guilt got the better of them. The accusations of Blood Magic would surface when there was no need for them. And when she did use, she suspected an accusation where there was none. Wynne frowned at the obviously scarred relationship between the two who had once been so blindly in love that even when they tried to play it off, it was clear to everyone around them.

"I can't take this, Cullen! We can't possibly save Ferelden from The Blight while we're at each other's throats more than we are the Darkspawn!" Kaela cried finally, pulling the Templar aside in the Inn they had found in Orzammar.

He didn't say a word, his copper eyes locked on those emeralds of hers. At his silence, she continued by pulling up the sleeves of her robes. Thousands of obviously self-induced scars littered her once flawless flesh, some much darker than others, all healed by her inexperienced medic magic.

"I've been trying to stop the Blood Magic, but I can't do this. Not on my own. The fights we have, the stress we're under, I find myself turning to it as a first choice. It's just too hard not to." She admitted, her eyes filling with tears. He bit his tongue, about to go off on her for it. About to preach about how he should have known all along...but he held back. This wasn't the time or the place.

Alistair had helped him curve the lyrium addiction of his Templar training, why couldn't he help her stop the Blood Magic. How could he trust her to be telling the truth if she was admitting to the crime? He sighed heavily and tried to step back from the situation. How often did a Blood Mage admit to their crimes and show you the evidence.

"What do you need me to do?"

_Oh baby this love ain't gone be perfect, (perfect perfect oh no)  
And just how good it's gonna be  
We can fuss and we can fight long as everything is alright between us before we go to sleep..._

The road to recovery was a long and arduous one. Part of being human was being flawed, and the other part was realizing that imperfection and trying to improve ones self by fixing it. It wasn't often that someone could find the strength to do it on their own, and when the ones you love were there to help you...

It didn't matter how mad they got at one another, how much they argued. When it came down to it, they had been the only ones to truly understand the journey and travails of the other. They were the only ones who could fix the other, and as long as they made up from their fights...they'd be alright. 


End file.
